What Is Your Major Malfunction?
by ErisianDiva78
Summary: It's a bit of chaos involving LowCharge!Dorian channeling his inner grouchy detective. No romance, sorry shippers. Just some general fun at Kennex's expense. And maybe Paul's... because we all know how much he loves it when Dorian's on a low-charge.


_Author's Note: __This plot-bunny bit of gold came about from the AHFanCon chatroom. Discussing the Seven Deadly Sins, it was decided that Wrath would be best if it was focused on Dorian (rather than John because that's just too every-day). And I decided to go with the idea of Dorian having a bit of fun at everyone else's expense._

_And I'd like to point out that the boys didn't quite cooperate the way I had thought they would. I'm on the fence as to whether I'll add to this to cover the rest of the day - it's a possibility. Depends on how well this is received._

_I'm also blaming HoboVampire for this because this was her plotbunny too. It's being well fed, my dear. WELL fed. LOL_

_Also, this is unbeta'd. Any errors are mine and mine alone. Enjoy the story, not the errors. I was made to feel, man!_

_Also, this has references to my AHFanCon Scramble contribution - which involved a cat. If you'd like the link to that, here ya go: post/82438038183/ah-con-scramble-submission-youve-gotta-be-kitten-me_

The room was dark, meaning Rudy was still sleeping. What had brought Dorian out of stasis? He blinked, though he didn't have to (colloquial routine, man), and pulled out his charger. In the darkness, the blue that flickered up and down his face seemed unnaturally bright. The DRN could see perfectly well without needing to turn on the lights and maneuvered around the room until he could ascertain what had 'woken' him.

It took .15 seconds to discover that the darkness wasn't caused entirely by the fact that the Tech was still sleeping. The entire area was without power.

Solar flares. Again. They were getting worse. He knew it was just the position of the Earth to the sun, and the season, but it seemed that there were reports that this was the worst they'd seen in a few years.

Dorian shook his head, still running silently, and considered his charging pad. There was no power being routed to it, meaning whatever charge he had would have to last him until they had everything running smoothly. Briefly, he wondered if John had been conscientious enough to charge the new leg long enough. He'd be running on a lower charge, but he didn't want his human partner to be hobbling about on old-fashioned crutches. It had happened, once. The detective had been out _celebrating_ (which, Dorian learned, meant getting absolutely wasted and passing out in the single most inconvenient places known to mankind) - and had forgotten to charge his leg.

Still silent, he ran a quick diagnostic over himself. He was at 65%. That meant he'd have to conserve several of his less-vital programs. Unfortunately, as evinced by his internal clock, it was still far too early to tell if he'd have the opportunity to charge later. Knowing John, they'd be running around like madmen for most of the day. And he'd be down to nearly 0% efficiency by the end of their shift. Perhaps he could talk to Rudy about that portable charger, though John would complain. The detective disliked anything new.

In the meantime, he had nothing to do but sit and update his subroutines and make sure he would be as combat ready as he could be for their upcoming shift.

* * *

It really wasn't looking like it was going to be John's day. The solar flares had caused yet another rolling blackout through the city. He'd overslept when the alarm hadn't gone off, his leg wasn't fully charged, and he'd missed grabbing coffee due to lack of power in his apartment. And because the fates seemed determined to conspire against him, that meant that the donut machine was also on the fritz. Not only did he _not_ get his chocolate sprinkled donut, he didn't get _any_ damned donut. Thankfully, there was coffee in the precinct. He wasn't sure who made it, but he made a mental note (that he'd forget about as soon as a call came in) to thank whoever made the coffee. It was one small blessing in an otherwise unforgivable morning.

Captain Energy was strolling around the bullpen looking a bit magnanimous, and John hadn't seen Dorian yet. The DRN had requested, the night before, to be able to come in on his own. It was his attempt at being a bit more independent, now that he was living with Rudy. John had just rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand. Whatever. He'd wait in the bullpen for his partner and their first assignment.

But then John realized Dorian was actually _late_. The last time that had happened had been when he'd had to go down below to the MX Charging Room. He still had nightmares about that. _Waking up in a charging pod, looking like an overgrown ken doll._ He'd awoken in a cold sweat, hand immediately cupping himself to make sure nothing was missing. Interestingly enough, those nightmares had almost completely obscured the ones involving the Raid. Or Anna. He wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to be thankful for that, or question his already degraded sanity.

Ordinarily, not seeing Dorian around would have been cause for concern. But the detective was caffeine- and donut-deprived, so for the moment he enjoyed the quiet. Which, of course, meant it would be shattered in record time. He attempted to ignore Paul as the shorter man sauntered over.

"Kennex. Looks like you're missing something. You gonna admit defeat and just retire, already? You're obsolete. You and that damned DRN."

John opened his mouth to retort when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "I got this, John." It was Dorian. And judging by the look on Paul's face, it was DiscoFace Dorian.

"Mind your business, bot." Paul snorted, rolling his eyes. He was clearly ill-at-ease with Dorian so close, but refused to back down. They were 'bots. 'Bots were designed to obey their partners. The fact that Maldonado didn't attempt to corral Kennex and his nightmare of a partner was a huge bone of contention with Paul. He'd talked to her about it, several times, and had been assured that the situation was 'under control.' Under control, Stahl's genetically perfect ass.

The DRN returned the glare, expression looking a bit like it had during the _last_ solar flare. Not good. Where the hell was his MX? Paul didn't look away, but he found himself listening more acutely to the area around them. Ah.. there it was. Damned thing. Least it was coming with coffee. And that seemed to be all it took before the DRN snapped. Again. It _pointed_ at Paul's MX (he'd taken to calling it Max, because it was easy to remember and didn't mind being referred to in such a way) and began accusing it.

"You have a full charge. How is this possible? The solar flare occurred at 12:41AM Eastern Daylight Time. How does this MX have a full charge and I don't?"

"Maybe this one was on the charger for longer than you were. If you weren't out drinking with your buddy here.."

"I was _not_ drinking with him." John protested, and was summarily ignored by all involved. No matter, they'd say their peace, get it out of their system and the day would progress. Or so he hoped.

"I think you took your MX home with you, Paulie." Dorian was saying, oblivious to John's outburst.

"You think _what_ now?" Paul's eyes widened, brows raising. The implication was clear. It had been implied a number of times between Kennex and Dorian, until the DRN moved in with Rudy. No one wanted to say anything bad about the Tech. He was weird as hell, but had proven himself invaluable.

The MX chose that moment to speak up, thus damning itself. "I received a full charge as I was not on shift yesterday. You lack a full charge as you were in rotation, DRN. Your processes are inferior and require far more maintenance than mine. And as I am..." That was as far as the MX got. Dorian reacted, a full light-show cascading up the side of his face. He lashed out, punching the MX directly in the nose. It caved in, and the 'bot stumbled backward, taking out a chair and nearly knocking Paul to the ground as he attempted to catch Max.

"Damn it, Kennex! Control your 'bot!" He shouted as he bent down to assess the damage. Well... there went another 'Max.' Paul blew out a frustrated breath and looked up at where the pair were standing together. Kennex looked torn between wanting to laugh out loud and looking sheepish. This was the second time Dorian had lashed out at Paul. This time was just more indirect.

"KENNEX!" Came the shrill cry as Maldonado exited her office. Yeah, she'd seen the whole thing. John turned, both hands up. One still held his coffee cup, but he moved away from Dorian to attempt to placate the Captain.

"Low charge, Captain." When in doubt, show a little respect. He heard Paul's growled '_suck-up,_' but chose to ignore it. Now wasn't the time. He was still skating on thin ice after the whole affair with IA and his involvement with Anna. He knew that his actions were being closely monitored. Dorian's too, to a degree. But his because of what they'd discovered in the Matryoshka doll. It was damning, because he'd been so close to her. He'd _trusted_ her. Shouldn't have, but then he was a man. Sometimes the higher brain didn't do the thinking.

Maldonado sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine. But you are not taking him out on the streets like that."

"I'm not workin' with one of those _things_." He growled softly, gesturing behind him. He meant the MX, which earned him yet another glare from Paul.

"Just 'cause you like outdated things doesn't mean we have to suffer for it." Paul piped up, standing. Two unnamed MX Units had stepped up to remove Max. They would take him to Rudy's and he'd _hopefully_ be repaired. That particular MX had gotten to where it anticipated his need for coffee and prepared it just how he liked it. He didn't want to have to train another to do his bidding.

"You're not going to today. Since Richard is without an MX, and I don't have the resources to give him another until we have full power restored, he's riding with you."

"What? NO!" Both Paul and Kennex said in unison. Neither would look at the other, but John swore he heard Valerie snort a very unladylike laugh at their expense.

"Yes." She glared at them both, in turn. "I need to know that I can trust you three to conduct yourselves professionally? No punching things." The last was directed at Dorian, but it was John who spoke up.

"We'll be fine. But you really don't need to put him with us. Dee and me'll be fine."

Sandra rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No fighting me on this, John." He knew she was thinking of Simon. Simon, who was currently cooling his heels in the cubes with no hope of ever seeing freedom again. Simon who had damned near ended everything. And proven, once and for all, that Dorian was the superior 'bot. He'd taken his partner's needs into account without question, even on a low charge. John sighed, knowing the look. Seemed every time he turned around, someone was attempting to beat the shit out of him. Paul had jokingly told him it was just his face. It invited punches and anger.

John had thought that one of the funniest things he'd ever heard.

"Fine. We'll do this. But I won't be held accountable for the chaos that comes from having these two in my car with me." He grunted.

* * *

It was easily worse than the day he'd spent with DRN-494. Paul sat in the back seat and bitched. And bitched.

And bitched.

By the end of their first hour patrolling, John was ready to just go back to the precinct and admit defeat. First it was the smell in the car. Could he help that he'd never been able to get the smell of the Quarantined Area near the Wall out of the floorboards? He'd burned his clothing and boots, and taken the car in to be cleaned, but the smell had remained. And there might have been a few fleas in the car from Dammit. Dorian still referred to the furball as Princess, and neither were admitting to John's having the small beast.

Denial, thy name is John Kennex.

By the end of the second, both Kennex and Paul were scouting for a coffee shop to refill their mugs. Neither man was talking to the other and Dorian had taken to singing something vaguely popish. In Korean. Again. His eyes were strobing different colors, and when asked to either quiet down or mute his volume, he'd responded by rolling down the window and singing even louder. When he accessed the car's PA system, singing through that, John finally admitted utter and total surrender.

"For the love of all that's holy, Dorian, shut the hell up." He couldn't even muster the vitriol necessary to grouch at the DRN. Voice filled with defeat, he pulled the car to a stop outside of a seedy, low-end looking diner and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. Paul didn't even wait for the two. He was out like a shot, not caring that the coffee was probably going to be burnt-tasting or disgusting. Anything to get the feel of whatever was crawling around his ankles off, and that smell out of his nose. He glowered at the pair from inside the safety of the diner and considered calling one of the beat cops for a ride back to the precinct. How Kennex and his DRN managed without losing their minds, he had no idea. But he couldn't do it.

John finally got out and made his way slowly to the diner, leaving Dorian inside. With any luck, the car and DRN would still be there when he returned with his refilled cup of shitty, low-end coffee. And yeah, he might've watched the car the _entire_ time they were in the diner. Because he didn't trust that the DRN wouldn't flip the fuck out and take off to go serenade the neighborhood with his ridiculous Korean pop music.

At least he could sing, John kept telling himself. There was that.

He wouldn't look at Paul as he paid for his coffee and made his way back out. He wasn't sure the other Detective was going to follow, but he heard the tinkle of the bell over the door as the shorter man exited the diner to follow. "I hate you, you know." He heard Paul say.

"Yeah, yeah, get in line." He grumbled, taking a drink. He still wouldn't look at the other.

"Why the hell does your car smell like something died in it? Don't you clean it? God, does your place smell like that? Is that why it lives with Lom?"

John snorted. "Remember that Bends case we had a week ago?" Paul shrugged a shoulder. No doubt, he had no idea what John was talking about. John plowed on, gesturing vaguely to the car and the DRN singing to a couple of homeless people across the street. "Wound up in the Quarantined Area. And now we know why it's Quarantined. I burned my clothes."

"That's not all you should've burnt." He laughed. It couldn't be helped. They'd never been _close_, but how many times had he, Pelham and Paul gone out to McQuaid's after a shift to blow off steam over a round? Or six. "Yeah, yeah, I know. And yeah, for the record, I did try to get the smell out. Been buyin' that spray shit to spray the floorboards, but it just doesn't cover it. It's like death and ass and gym socks in there..."

"And here I thought that was just your cologne, Kennex." But Paul was grinning.

"You wish it was my cologne."

"Is that really the best come-back you got? Jesus, old man, you're gettin' rusty. One'd think with that damned 'bot'a yours, you'd have better come-backs than that."

"Old man. Seriously? It's months, asshole. Months. Get over yourself. Just 'cause you're shorter than anyone in the city doesn't mean you gotta be an asshole about it." John laughed. "I mean really, I've had it up to here.." He gestured to his naval. "With ya."

"So fucking funny, asshole." But Paul laughed.

"Guys? We just got something." Dorian leaned across the console, peeking out at the pair. "Robbery on Kelvin."

John sighed and nodded. "Show us responding..." He glanced sidelong at the other Detective. "Take what you can..."

Paul snorted, picking up the ancient quote. Figured Kennex would use that line. "Give nothing back."


End file.
